


Critical Condition

by wintersunofdoom



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22805188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersunofdoom/pseuds/wintersunofdoom
Summary: Things start to get really weird in Mordhaus for the band, especially for its scandinavian members.
Relationships: Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Toki Wartooth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Critical Condition

Skwisgaar stormed out of the studio, guitar in hand, furious.

On his way out, he passed by a confused Nathan, who just walked into the room. He was forty minutes late and totally hungover. This wasn't usually his kind of behaviour, but it had been a long week. For everybody.

Their parents had just left two days ago, and everybody was exhausted. And pissed. But not as pissed as Skwisgaar.

Nathan quickly went back out to the hallway, calling after the Swede, who just turned around the corner. Instead of a verbal answer, he got the sound of an electric guitar getting smashed on the floor, shattering into pieces. The dissonance of broken guitar strings filled up the softly lit hallway.

Realising that there's no use in negotiation, Nathan went back into the studio. A very confused Pickles and a very drunk and confused Murderface were sitting in the recording boot, staring at the door.

Nathan walked in, his fists clenched to the sides of his body.

Pickles turned to the half-conscious Murderface.

"What the hell was that? Did you get any of what just happened? Think blondie's starting to lose it".

"What. Did. You. Do." Nathan growled.

Pickles jumped in his seat. "Nothing! I swear to ya! We were just working on this song for the new album and things were going pretty alright, except for Murderface fucking up a couple of times and then blondie just went 'fuck it' and ran out".

Nathan focused his stare at the slightly-over-the-edge-drunk bass guitarist. "And what's up with you?"

Murderface spat through his teeth. "What are you, my mother? Mind your own business, a grown ass man can drink as much as he wants to".

Nathan started raising his voice. "I don't care WHY are you shitfaced, but WHY are you doing it on a fucking recording day".

"You're drunk too! And an hour late!"

"FUCK YOU, DON'T CHANGE THE SUBJECT"

"Alright-alright-alright-alright, let's all calm down here".

Pickles was now standing, almost crushed between the chests of the raven haired vocalist and the drunk bassist. Seeing that they were getting dangerously close, he had to interfere. Especially after what happened last time. They could not afford to postpone this album again because of another multiple organ trauma and a brain concussion.

It just wasn't the right time.

"Obviously, this isn't going to work out today", Pickles spoke in a soothing voice, glancing between Nathan and Murderface, "Let's just wrap it up for today. Each go to his room, calm down, think of how we get this thing back on track. And no more booze". He gently pushed both of them aside and stood up straight. "We can't afford this kind of shit right now, there's only one month left. I'll ask Charles to arrange a band meeting tonight".

There was a moment of incomprehensible mumbling and nodding.

Nathan frowned at Pickles. "Did you just say 'no booze'?"

Pickles looked down at his feet. "Yeah, I'm kinda trying to lay down with the drinking".

"And drugs?"

"And drugs"

Nathan's eyebrows shot all the way up. "What happened?"

"Long story, not the time. I'm going to check up on the kid".

They almost didn't notice Murderface disappearing behind the drum kit, retching, as they walked out of the studio.

Murderface laid down on his back, staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily.

"Motherfuckers".

___________________________

Toki didn't show up to the studio that day.

For the last week, he was bedridden with pneumonia and lots of nasty-tasting medicine. He could walk only for a few minutes before bursting into a violent pit of coughing and nearly fainting.

The fainting thing already happened a few days ago, when they found him sprawled on the floor of the living room, having a mini-heart attack, thinking that he OD'd. He was taken to the hospital wing and thank God, it was only pneumonia.

So Toki had to spend days on end in his room, bored out of his skull. He went through the day, mostly sleeping and rewatching the whole "Star Wars" saga. Last night he decided to pick up "Lord of the Rings" and read half of the first book in one night, wondering how many good books had he missed all these years.

Apparently, quite a lot.

He fell asleep at 4 am and woke up at noon, just half an hour before Skwisgaar stormed out of the studio downstairs. After spending time staring at the ceiling and going through the messages on his phone, Toki had finally decided to get up and take a walk around the house. He was already feeling a little better and he figured that seeing his friends may cheer him up a little bit. Even if they tell him to fuck off and stay away from them, cause he's sick (which they probably will).  
But Toki didn't care, he just wanted to spend time with them.

Toki jumped out of bed, stretching his limbs, and went into the bathroom. Brushing his teeth, he noticed that his usually taut stomach had gotten a bit flatter and his pajama pants were sitting a bit lower on his hips.

"Just the time to fetch a good breakfast" he thought to himself, getting dressed. Of course he could've just stayed in bed and have a Klokateer bring him breakfast (which is exactly how it went in the last few days, against his will), but he didn't really like eating in his room by himself. Plus, some of the Klokateers made him feel a little uncomfortable.

A plain blue T-shirt, a pair of jeans and a pair of boots later, Toki ran his fingers a couple of times through his hair in front of a mirror, and he was out in the hallway.

Still feeling a little weak, he went at a slow pace. Just as he decided to turn towards the studio to check up on his band mates, he ran into a very frustrated Skwisgaar.

After smashing his guitar to dust, Skwisgaar headed straight to his room.

He felt a huge ball of anxiety, boiling up inside of his stomach. It made him want to throw up. It was unbearable for him to be anywhere near people right now, he didn't want to see or hear anybody. He didn't even want to think about anything.

Every little thing pissed him off, his vision started swimming and his palms itched like crazy and he felt like he wanted to break something. His guitar wasn't enough. He felt like tearing down his entire bedroom.

As he continued pacing down the hall, his breath was growing faster and the feeling of sickness started growing a lot stronger and tears of frustration were forming themselves in his eyes and running down his flushed cheeks.

He was just a few meters away from his room as he turned around the corner and ran into the last person he wanted to see right now.

_____________________________

"Skwisgaar?"

"Good morning, Toki. I see you're feeling better."

Skwisgaar focused his gaze on a spot on the floor behind Toki, hiding his tear stained face behind a curtain of blonde hair. His arms hang awkwardly at the sides of his body and his voice was strained.

Toki was caught off guard. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. I think I'm starting to feel sick. You just couldn't stay away, could you? Because of you, we're gonna fuck up the whole album. Thanks, you dildo. Now, excuse me"

He wanted to walk around Toki and straight into his bedroom, but the younger man caught him by the elbow.

"Skwisgaar, what's wrong?"

"I already told you. Now let go off me"

"Talk to me."

"Fuck off."

"C'mon."

"Toki, let go off me!"

"No."

"I will punch you in the face"

"I'd like to see you try"

Skwisgaar tried to shake away from the rhythm guitarist, but Toki leaned forward and tightened the grip on his arm. This gesture made Toki burst into a pit of coughing.

"Toki, LET GO"

"Look at me first" He managed to say between coughs.

"Fuck you"

"Maybe later, but first look at me"

"Fucking dildo"

"Please."

Skwisgaar jerked his head down, his eyes burning holes through Toki's. He gritted his teeth as he spoke.

"HERE! Is this what you wanted to see? Are you satisfied now!?"

"Not at all"

"Let go of my arm"

"Skwisgaar, I can't just walk away seeing you like this"

"Yes you can! It's the right thing to do!" Skwisgaar stomped with his right foot. "I'm getting tired of you idiots, always shoving your nose into my shit! This house is fucking stupid! Let me go, I want to be alone right now, do you get it? Huh? Go build a fucking airplane model or something, like a dumb eight year old. You never show up to practice anyway"

Toki stared at him in silence for a few seconds. Finally, he released his grip from Skwisgaar's arm. "Fine" he sighed, "Be this way. If you'll be willing to talk, you know where to find me".  
Slowly, he turned away from a bewildered Skwisgaar and continued walking down the hall. He slowed down hearing a heavy sigh behind him and a door gently opening and shutting.

Toki stopped. He cursed himself under his breath. This is going to be really awkward.

But he couldn't walk away.

Slowly but surely, Toki walked to Skwisgaar's bedroom door. He stood in front of it in silence, trying to hear something from the inside. It was quiet. Toki raised his arm and gently knocked on the door.

"Come in" a soft voice came from inside.

Toki opened the door to Skwisgaar's bedroom.

It was dark and chilly inside. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed a tall figure, with bright skin and hair, sitting on the edge of the bed, hugging its long feet.

Toki shut the door behind him.

Making his way towards the blonde figure on the bed, stumbling on Skwisgaar's boots on the floor, Toki carefully sat beside the Swede on the edge of the mattress.

Skwisgaar was shaking a bit. Toki wondered if it's because of the cold or because he was crying. Probably both.

They sat in complete silence and almost complete darkness for about five minutes. The only light illuminating the room was coming from Skwisgaar's digital clock on the night drawer.

Toki observed Skwisgaar's room in the darkness. It looked so different. Serene, in contrast to the way it always seemed to Toki. Like an ocean. Almost magical.

"I'm wasting your time" Skwisgaar finally blurted out. "Thanks a lot, Toki. For, you know, caring and all that. But this isn't really something that I can talk about"

"Then don't talk," Toki answered quietly. Skwisgaar was visibly shaking now. Toki continued in the same tone "There's no need to talk. We can just sit in silence. It's nice. Right?"

"Y-y-es" Skwisgaar mumbled.

"We don't need to talk" Toki repeated, feeling he was at a loss of words.

Toki carefully placed a heavy hand on Skwisgaar's thin shoulder and gently squeezed.

Skwisgaar let out a quiet sobb. "I'm fucked up, Toki". He swallowed. "Really, really fucked up, you have no idea how much-". His voice broke at the last words.

Toki rubbed at his shoulder, feeling like he was about to start crying himself. Who's idea was it again? To let someone as sensitive as him comfort another person? He still cried when watching fucking Disney movies.

"You're not fucked up" Toki said softly. "I mean, you are, but we all are here. You know. Because of our parents, mostly. You're not a kid anymore. You're a grown man. You have your own life. You're so far away from all that bullshit past right now".

"No, Toki" Skwisgaar let in a sharp breath, his voice breaking on every word. "I'm not, Toki. I'm still way down there. Every. Single. Day."

Skwisgaar's abonemen started to gently shake with quiet sobs. Toki scooted closer to him, slightly raising a cautious arm in the air.

"May I give you a hug?"

Instead of giving an answer, Skwisgaar leaned into him, burying his face between Toki's neck and shoulder. As he tried not to cry into his friend's shoulder (and failed miserably), Toki rubbed soothing circles into his shoulder blades.


End file.
